


Traveler

by HRCoombs



Series: Works Inspired by Music [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Not Canon Compliant, Not completely anywho, Slightly Out Of Character, Tried to stay true, Work In Progress, but they became their own entities, or maybe not so random..., random time skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 10:02:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13785150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HRCoombs/pseuds/HRCoombs
Summary: John Watson is a war veteran. Sherlock Holmes is a consulting detective - only one in the world. When these two travelers cross paths, neither will be the same again.





	Traveler

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Traveler  
> Artist: Christ Stapleton
> 
> Relationships, Characters, and Tags to be added as the story progresses.

The day started as any other. John lay in bed, breathing heavy, eyes clenched against the remnants of the night terror that had torn him from slumber. After regaining control of his breathing, he pushed himself up and reached for his cane. He hated the thing, a constant reminder of what had happened, what was taken from him – ripped from him, leaving him gasping in agony. A constant reminder that he had been removed from the life loved, set adrift from that world of beautiful chaos. 

It took a few tries to pull himself up from his bed, always harder to manage after… Regardless, he had an appointment with his therapist in a little over an hour and he needed to get ready. Wouldn’t do to have her thinking he’d intentionally skipped and send his sister over in a flurry of ‘what the hell, John’ and ‘I just want to help, why won’t you let me help’. She meant well, he knew, but she could be so overbearing. 

*

He sighed as he exited the medical complex housing his therapists’ office. Another hour spent sitting in silence as she sat across from him scribbling in his file. He knew he should consider her advice. It actually sounded rather good. Travel. See the world without the haze of battle. Could be interesting.

“John? John Watson?”

He turned at the voice, a tight smile pulling at his lips as he registered the heavy-set bloke approaching him from one of the other medical offices.

“Bloody hell, that is you,” the man smiled widely at him, moving a bit quicker in his approach. “How the devil have you been, old man?”

“Good, good,” he held a hand out to shake. “And you? Last I heard you were planning to marry Shelly. How’d that work out for you, Mike?”

Mike grinned, a slight flush covering his cheeks. “It’s been great. Yeah, absolutely wonderful. You should see her now – right firecracker, she is.” 

His grin widened, and John wondered that it didn’t split his cheeks. He looked so happy, though, and John couldn’t help that his forced smile was a little less forced as he followed Mike to a small coffee cart nearby. They continued to chat, spending a bit of time reminiscing about their university years – years that seemed to be ages ago, but weren’t more than a half-decade in their past. 

“Three years,” John sighed, looking back up at Mike. “I only did three years.”

“More than I did, though. I’d never have been able to even think of it. You’re brave, John.”

John laughed, a bit harshly. “Brave? I wasn’t brave, Mike. I was desperate. You know that.”

Mike nodded, eyeing John warily. “Desperate, maybe, but still brave. I’ve the same debt as you, you know. Never would’ve considered signing up to help pay it off, though.”

“Shelly never would’ve let you, either,” John laughed a bit more freely, thinking of the small, fiery red-head that had pushed him and Mike both through hours-long study sessions with her perkiness and a never-ending supply of caffeine. “Don’t think either of us would’ve managed without her.”

“You should come for dinner,” Mike smiled as he stood and stretched bit. “I need to be getting back, but you really should. Here,” he handed John his phone with a smile, “give me your number and I’ll text you the address. No getting out of it or I’ll sick Shelly on you and you know she can find you. She still talks to Harry.”

John laughed once more, grabbing the phone and entering his own number before sending a short text to himself so he would have Mike’s number as well. “There, no excuses now,” he smiled up at his old friend. “I’ll see you,” he stood as well, using his cane to lever himself up with a grimace before turning back to Mike and hold out his hand.

“Yeah, see you, John.”

*

“ _You’re not serious, John._ ”

John tried to stifle the sigh as he stared in his wardrobe. He didn’t have much to wear and a quick glance at his watch told him he had just about forty-five minutes to get dressed and across town before Shelly sent out reinforcements to make sure he arrived for dinner. He never should have agreed to this. He really did have nothing to wear.

“Harry, what do you want from me? You’ve seen my wardrobe. I've nothing to wear! I swear I’m not just trying to get out of this. I wouldn’t do that to Shelly. She’s scary.”

Harry laughed, the sound bright and care-free, if a little tinny over the loud-speaker on his phone. “ _John, wear that blue striped number with your most comfortable jeans. It’s just dinner with old friends. There’s no fancy dress involved._ ”

“Are you sure?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“ _John,_ ” her aggravation was clear, and he sighed once more.

“Fine, fine. Blue stripe and jeans. I’ve got to go now. I’ll be lucky to make it before Shelly decides she needs to come get me herself.”

Bright laughter once more filtered from his phone and he gave a small smile towards it in reply. “ _Love you,_ ” she giggled.

“Love you more,” he replied, and the phone lit up showing that the call had ended. “Don’t really know what I would do without you,” he said into the silence that descended on his bedsit.

*

“You know,” Shelly murmured between sips of a sweet red wine, “I think you and Sherlock would get along swimmingly.”

Mike perked up a bit, turning to look at John up and down before nodding in agreement. “You’re right, love. I think Sherlock is exactly what he needs.”

“What kind of name is Sherlock?” John couldn’t help asking. He may have had a bit too much wine, but really, they all had. Shelly’s red hair was falling in wisps from the high bun it had started in, her cheeks a bit flushed from the amount of wine she’d already consumed. Mike wasn’t any better off, a sheen of sweat across his forehead and nearly his entire face red. John didn’t really look like he’d had that much to drink, but his brain-to-mouth filter had disappeared somewhere around his fourth, or was it fifth, glass and he was pretty sure this was his seventh, or was it eighth? Either way, he should probably be getting ready to leave.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” Mike asked suddenly.

John stared at him a moment before the question registered. “What would I be busy with? I’ve got nothing on, no.”

Mike nodded. Several times. Shelly reached out and put her hand to his forehead to make him stop and he smiled sheepishly at her. “Right,” he cleared his throat. “You should come up to Bart’s then. I teach there, twice a week. Could maybe see about getting you in, maybe as a guest lecturer to start.”

“Mike,” John hesitated.

“You said yourself you have nothing on. It’s not like it would be interfering with anything else. What harm could it be?”

Shelly hid a smile behind her wine glass and John eyed both of them warily before sighing and nodding. “Fine. Guess I will do. Like you said, won’t be interfering with anything. Got nothing doing.”

“Right,” Shelly stood, knocking her chair over backwards and sending herself into a fit of drunken giggles as Mike reached out to hold her up. “Okay, yes. Time for bed, I think,” she continued to giggle. “Night, John. Good seeing you.” She leaned over the table and smeared a kiss across his forehead with another giggle as she nearly overbalanced before righting herself and heading towards the hallway to the back of the house. “Night,” she called again.

“Guess that’s my cue,” John grinned as Mike watched her go. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mike.”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded and let out a soft sigh. “She’s so amazing.”

“Mike,” John chuckled, “you married her, mate. You don’t have to pine over her anymore.”

Mike turned back to him, wide grin stretching his cheeks much as it had earlier that afternoon. “You’re right. I married her. She picked me.”

“Good night, Mike,” John grumbled good-naturedly and let himself out of their small home. He walked along the quiet street for a bit before pulling out his phone to call for a cab. He should really head home and get some rest if he was going to possibly be giving a surprise guest lecture at some point tomorrow. “Shit,” he hissed, looking back to the now dark house. “He didn’t tell me what time I was supposed to meet him there.”


End file.
